


A Mighty Knead

by nononokey



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Eavesdropping, F/M, Gen, Seifer helps Quistis relax, Sexual Humor, Trepies have a fit or two, it can be detrimental to overhear things not meant for your ears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nononokey/pseuds/nononokey
Summary: Two Trepies overhear Seifer helping Quistis unwind. Unfortunately.Get your mind INTO the gutter for this.





	A Mighty Knead

**Author's Note:**

> Seifer is back at Garden. I don’t have a backstory or explanation (neither one is needed for this ficlet) for it but he is. Post-game.
> 
> Disclaimer: If Square Enix would like to gift VIII to me, I’d be willing to accept. Currently they own it and everything related to it, including my poor heart.

Trepies #22 and #4 exchanged a wide-eyed look and crept closer to the closed door beside the Infirmary.

They’d been chilling in the corridor after their weekly “not mandatory but very, very... VERY warmly recommended” counselling session with Dr Kadowaki when the object of their undying adoration, Miss Quistis Trepe herself, had walked briskly past them towards the outlying building, her posture stiff in her usual SeeD uniform. Selflessly worried for her health, they had followed her... at a safe distance, of course, so as not to awaken her ire - Trepie #3 still blushed violently red whenever he heard any woman raise her voice, the memory of Miss Trepe screaming her voice hoarse about personal boundaries loud and clear in his mind. They referred to it as The Library Incident in hushed voices. Commander Leonhart had called it something far less agreeable.

To the surprise and consternation of the two Trepies now present, Quistis hadn’t walked into the Infirmary but instead veered to the left, where the newly reformed Disciplinary Committee housed their office. Awaiting her at the door, leaning against the doorframe with a grin on his face, had stood Seifer Almasy, dressed not in his usual clothes but a standard white t-shirt and black slacks. The former Instructor and the former Lapdog had greeted each other with nods of their heads - hers respectful, his aggravatingly cocky - and disappeared inside the office. And Almasy had not only closed the door, he had LOCKED it.

The two Trepies grew concerned. Almasy waiting by the open door, the lack of questioning communication... It could only indicate that the meeting had been arranged beforehand. But what ever could the heavenly Miss Trepe want from scum-of-the-earth Almasy? He had been rude to her in the past, and abrasive, and dismissive... He had tried to kill her! The thought of anyone being bold enough to try marring her perfect skin sent Trepies into a quiet rage every time. Even though Quistis met him in the hallways and the cafeteria with a friendly enough demeanour, the Trepies were finding it hard to forgive the Lapdog for his trespasses against their queen and goddess.

“Take your shirt off and get on top of this”, came Seifer’s rough voice, muffled a little by the door. He slapped something that sounded like leather - or skin. The Trepies’ eyes widened to saucer size.

“Oh, Seifer”, replied Quistis’s beautiful voice reprimandingly, “shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?”

Seifer chuckled.

The Trepies most certainly did not.

There was an ominous silence and then Quistis yelped. Both Trepies balled their hands into fists automatically. They could... They could bang on Dr Kadowaki’s door and request assistance against the scoundrel with the scar. “It’s cold to lie on”, Quistis continued.

“Pfft, it’ll get warmer once you get warmed up. Besides, chicks dig ice cubes. Now you have a whole surface of ice to lie on. Don’t tell me that doesn’t turn you on a little bit. I’ve heard your nickname around Garden. Do you mind if I unhook your bra? It’ll be better without it in the way.”

How DARE he! #4 almost sputtered in her outrage. #22 pressed a warning finger against his lips; they absolutely must not alert the enemy to their presence until the moment of rescue. Battle strategy 101. He thought it was, at least; the trouble of having had Miss Trepe as his instructor for the class meant he retained very little of the actual information she’d taught. But it was all worth it...

“No, go ahead. But my nickname... Seifer, you’re the one who made it up.” Oddly, she didn’t sound angry in the least. No, she sounded... like she was enjoying herself. “Mmmm, that feels good... You know I have fire in me. Ice Bitch is just something— AaaAAAahhh...!”

Seifer chuckled again, this time in a lower voice, and grunted, which was met by a moan. “Yeah, you do feel kinda hot today. Is it just my magic fingers or are you just happy to see me, Instructor?”

“Mmmm...! Ohh, Seifer, that feels sooo GOOD...!”

#22 was flaring up as red as an adult Funguar, with matching bulging eyes to boot. #4 stared at him in shock and disgust and made a move for the door, only to be yanked back hard by #22. “What—“ she managed to yelp before he clamped a sweaty hand on her mouth and shushed her.

“We must observe for an opportune moment to save Miss Trepe from this del...” He forced himself to swallow. “... deplorable situation.”

#4 wanted to scream - but she also wanted to cave in and listen some more. Miss Trepe had entered the wolf’s den voluntarily... Didn’t she owe it to her heroine to let the situation play out a little longer? They WERE here out of concern for her well-being, weren’t they, and didn’t it sound like she was, well, very well...? She licked her lips without meaning to.

“Fuck, Trepe”, Seifer was growling behind the door, his voice such a low rumble both Trepies had to strain closer to make out his words, “how’d you get so tight? You’re wound up worse than a cuckoo clock.”

Quistis uttered something that had no reason or rhyme to it; it was mostly a moaned mixture of As and Os, ending in off-trailing Ms. Then, sounding blissed out, “Less talking, more action...”

“Okay”, Seifer said gruffly. “Hold on to something.”

There followed a loud sound of furniture banging into a wall and creaking like someone put noticeably more weight on it, and before the Trepies had time to react to it, there was a keening cry of pleasure and a masculine hum of satisfaction. #4 felt like her face would burn off from embarrassment, but better that than the other part of her body that was beginning to feel warm and tingly. #22 looked like something invisible was choking him... and not just in the neck.

Quistis’s moans started coming out in a steady pant, occasionally stretching into one continuous stream of “mmmmmmooohahhhhhSeifer...”. He peppered quiet growls of guttural pleasure amidst them.

And then she mewled. Quistis Trepe, the immaculate, classy, demure beauty, MEWLED. #22 felt lightheaded and fevered. “Oh, Seifer, do you think I’m... Am I too loud? It just feels sooOH good...”

“Trepe, fuck, I love hearing how much you enjoy this. Keep bein’ vocal or I’ll have to dig deeper into my magic trick box.” He did something to emphasise his words that made Quistis gasp very loudly.

The poor Trepies outside the door could barely hear the exchange of words for their own hammering hearts. They held their breaths without realising it.

The pair inside the office went back to what they were doing, only now Quistis was, if possible, even more expressive with how good she felt about whatever unimaginable acts Seifer was performing on her. No, scratch that, thought #4, she could definitely think of some things he might be doing... The constricting feeling crept into her throat too.

Time seemed to almost stand still, in a thick, throbbing little miniature time compression, except it was still being measured out with an undulating metronome pace of Quistis’s whimpers and hums, broken by a couple of hoarse “Oh, right there, right there...!”s and Seifer’s grunts and “This feels good, yeah?”s. #4 worried #22’s head would explode when Quistis replied, “Yes, yes, that’s really gooOOOOHd, ahh...”

There was an audible screeching creak again, and Quistis’s squeal: “Seifer, this thing can’t take both of us anymore!”

“Nonsense, I’ve done Raijin on this thing and he’s MASSIVE compared to you-uuurgh!” There came a louder crack and a bang that felt earsplitting to the extremely keenly listening Trepies. “Damn it!”

“It’s okay”, said Quistis, sounding out of breath but much calmer. “We were almost done anyway...”

“Yeah, but I still had a couple of things I wanted to do with you... Hang on,  
let me just ram this in... Hold tight now.”

Both #22 and #4 were sure they’d died, because nothing else could explain the situation that they were in. (Or on the outer edge of. Whatever, as Commander Leonhart often said.) Only, to #22 it was absolute hell, while #4 vaguely thought heaven was very different to what she’d been taught as a child.

From inside the office came a series of bangs so specific in sound texture that they could only originate from a piece of furniture being slammed repeatedly into the wall, and in chorus with them Quistis’s high-pitched yelps and Seifer’s heavy grunts and gasps.

“Seifer... Seifer! SEIFER!”

Just when the Trepies thought they could take no more - #4 was certainly feeling weak in the knees... - Seifer finished with a particularly forceful thrust and Quistis actually yelled out loud.

“Aaaaaah! SEIFER!”

That was it. The unfortunate, innocent teenagers passed out in a heap.

/ ~

Formally dressed again, sucking on her fingertip and glaring at Seifer, who was rummaging through a cupboard for a Potion, Quistis rolled her shoulders and let out a quiet hum of satisfaction. Popping the injured finger out of her mouth, she said, “I have to admit, when you claimed to be the best masseuse on this side of Trabia, I had my doubts, but... Damn, that really was good.”

Seifer turned to her with a knowing grin, uncorking the Potion at the same time. ”You have THE worst knots in your back. You’ll have to come again or you’ll just keep having the same problems with it. A few more massages in quick succession now, and after that... every now and then for maintenance, you know?”

“You’re doing me a favour, yet grinning like that... It’s unnerving.” But she smiled back, allowing just a little bit of wanton wickedness to seep into the expression.

His eyes glinted in a way that made her certain he’d noticed the undertones in her smile. “Ah, Trepe, don’t forget, you owe me one now.”

Her face soured instantly and she pointed her finger up in the air. “Give me the Potion or YOU owe ME more favours. I can’t believe you insisted the massage table would hold together, didn’t let me get off it, and then rammed it to the wall with my poor finger stuck in the middle!”

Seifer had the grace to look slightly sheepish and contrite as he poured the Potion on the suffering digit. “I’ll fix it before our next session, I promise. Like I said, it’s withstood both me and Raijin on it at the same time, and I was literally jumping on his back, so you shouldn’t be a problem at all. There’s probably a screw or two just loose somewhere.”

They both watched Quistis’s blackened, bloodied fingertip heal in front of their eyes, and as it did, Quistis’s ire at him melted away. He HAD been very, very talented with his “magic fingers”...! 

Upon noticing her smile again, this time a little dreamily, Seifer smirked and asked, “Same time tomorrow?”

“No, I can’t”, Quistis replied, slightly surprised to feel the same disappointment that immediately shadowed Seifer’s handsome features. She envied him his freedom of emotions and confidence in them. “I have a business meeting in Deling. Bleugh. I’ll be thinking of you with my portable massager.” The look on Seifer’s face changed wildly. “... You can stop it with the lewd grin and eyebrow wiggling, you know fully well what I meant!”

“Oh, I do... but do you?” His voice was too damn husky.

She didn’t like it, not when she was still tingling all over from his massage on her aching back. Not only had his touch felt great, it had been electrifying, and the implications were making her shudder inwardly. The worst thing was that none of it was unpleasant in any way, quite the opposite in fact...

“If you want a powerful wand, baby, look no further. Requires no batteries!” To make sure she absolutely couldn’t misunderstand, he gestured at his crotch with both hands and wagged his eyebrows up and down over mischievously glinting eyes.

“Mine plugs into an electric socket”, Quistis sniffed haughtily.

Seifer’s grin just widened. “Ooh, kinky, I like that. I guess I could junction a little Thunder to this power tool in my pants, just for you...”

Quistis couldn’t help but laugh merrily. “You idiot”, she said fondly. “One of these days you’re going to talk me into it. Or... talk yourself into me.”

“I’m counting on it, Trepe. If you liked the back massage that much, and that loudly... wait ‘til you experience my full-body, full-frontal massage...!” He swept his hand down in front of his body to flaunt it. As if Quistis weren’t aware of it by herself; she had to keep forcing herself to look away from his arms and the way the shirt stretched tightly over his muscles. That bastard had chosen a size too small on purpose. “So, see you when you get back?”

She chose to respond non-verbally, feeling like she might burst into stupid titters if she opened her mouth.

Seifer reacted to it just as well as she’d thought he might. “... Did you just... Did you just WINK at me?”

A giggle slipped out from her lips despite everything. His bewildered and more than just slightly interested expression was just too good to behold. “See you when I get back, yes.” She consciously dropped her voice to a seductive purr and added, “Maybe you’ll get to see me on my back then.”

The surprised squeak that escaped Seifer’s O-shaped mouth when he was otherwise frozen in shock made Quistis shiver with delight. He was fun to tease, because he gave as good as he got and more, although she had no real intention of having sex with him. Not so easily, at least... Okay, who was she kidding, she would probably succumb sooner rather than later, and it wasn’t a terrible thought. She had to admit - but only to herself! Seifer would never stop gloating if he knew what thoughts she entertained in her mind - that if his bare hands were THAT inner organ-tinglingly good, other parts of his finely sculpted anatomy might be well worth experiencing as well.

She left the D.C. office just as the Trepies were coming to, but her head was so high in the happy clouds of feeling relaxed that she ignored them entirely. #4 and #22 watched, both sporting furious blushes, as Miss Trepe walked past them with loosened limbs and a barely noticeable tremble in her gait, not a hair out of place (! she really was perfect...), her relaxed face decorated with a becoming pink blush and a dreamy smile, sucking on her fingertip and humming quietly, deep in thought... 

And then Seifer Almasy, looking uncharacteristically flustered, stepped out of the office to go after her, but he stopped as he noticed them, still sprawled on the floor in a tangle of gangly, tremor-filled limbs and too-bright eyes on deeply crimson faces. “The fuck are you little creeps doing there?” he snapped. “Get a room!”

#22 jerked to his feet and, with a bravery he didn’t know he possessed, scowled at Almasy as he helped #4 up. “Get one yourself! I mean... I... Never mind... Come, Honoured Number Four.”

As they left a confused and irritated Seifer Almasy behind them (“You’re those goddamn freaks of hers, aren’t you? Can’t even let her unwind in peace, huh?! Wait ‘til I catch you when I’m on duty! That fuck-up in the library wasn’t enough for you guys?!”), they swiftly exited the Infirmary wing, a growing excitement giving them a burst of speed. Trepie #1 would SCREAM once he found out what he’d missed. He would also be promptly knocked out and all Trepies cursed to the pits of hell tomorrow once he’d foolishly challenge an aggravated Almasy to a duel to defend Miss Trepe’s honour against the cur.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently started a new playthrough of VIII and it took me over five minutes to move onward from the fight Seifer is picking with Trepie #1 on the Garden message board. I still squee whenever I think about it. I wish they’d done more for this ship in the game; don’t even get me started on the unfairness of the ending and how well the whole “Seifer is Squall’s mirror/opposite” would have worked with Quistis thrown in as well... (If you want to talk about VIII with me, YES! Leave a comment about anything.)
> 
> I chose not to name the Trepies because a) they’re called Trepie #whatever in the game as well and b) in my mind they view their code numbers as honorary titles. I don’t think being Trepies is ALL that they are, but for the purposes of this ficlet, they are.
> 
> The need/knead pun was too dad-jokey to pass up on, hence the title.
> 
> This is dedicated to Chris Evans in his too-tight henley shirts, as he inspired the image of Seifer in his. Thank you, amen.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
